We Were Once
by vin.fireclaw
Summary: Pre-anime. In order to understand the future, one must first comprehend the past. The development of the relationship between Shizuru and Natsuki before it's brought to its peak. Discontinued-plot elements to be converged with and in Memento Vivere.


**A/N: **yeah, yeah. I know. I'm still working on D10, honestly! Consider this the overview, the prologue, for my next fic after I finish my rough draft of D10 (which even when I finish it, probably won't hit for two years and will probably be completely warped by then too). I was hesitant to put it up here so you should thank jaded088 for seeing this now. This is techincally her b-day fic although it was over two weeks late. (laughs) But, considering it's me and I'm ridiculously slow at writing stuff, it was actually pretty fast.

Anyway, for the fic itself. This fic is going to be an all-encompassing exploration of the relationship of Shizuru and Natsuki from its start to the first episode of the anime. I much rather show than tell, but I shall leave you on that note. I hope you enjoy this. 

* * *

**Prologue**

**You're Not Here **

Some things are never how they are meant to be.

She wondered and contemplated that thought often. It would usually be late into the afternoon or the beginning of evening when such introspection struck. Or rather, the desire for such reverie surfaced; a soft, churning feeling in the pit of her stomach that reminded her that something was amiss. She would be in the Student Council room, at her desk, staring out at the empty chairs and tables that all seem tilted at her, towards her, the center. She would be drinking her last cup of tea and waiting for her laptop to shut down. Everyone else—the people who once occupied those chairs had left, leaving behind invisible specters fixated at her in their unending scrutiny…as if she was before a jury. Knowing that something was not quite right, these were the moments she felt the most self-conscious: even though she was sitting there almost perfectly still, she seemed to be, at the same time, moving with breakneck speed, hurdling towards a future that seemed to become ever-so beyond her reach and understanding.

This was one such moment. She brought her cup to her lips and allowed herself to be washed away in the taste of her tea, languidly savoring its fragrance and the slight pang of bitterness that accompanied it. Despite common perception, she was not a purist: she enjoyed a vast assortment from kocha to milk tea. She did, however, have a special predilection for the Japanese greens. These she preferred without adding any outsider ingredients as it would dilute the delicate balance of aroma and flavor she favored. She was unlike Natsuki who rather drown the natural bitterness of the tea in honey. That thought, of Natsuki…Shizuru looked down at the remaining liquid in the cup and saw the same near-invisible smile she wore reflected back at her. It was an expression that often surfaced and threatened to break through her carefully controlled emotions every time she thought of the blue-haired girl.

Her teacup hit the table with a definite clang, purposely too. The sound seemed to echo like a clamor within the deathly silent room. She reached forward and closed the lid on her laptop. It clicked shut with a certain sense of finality, one that she did not feel. She turned to the side, eyes lingering not towards the closed window, but to the side of her desk where the middle school girl once sat at the edge not long ago. She had come after the meeting, as everyone else filtered out and just sat there, staring out of the window. Shizuru had not wanted to break the blue-haired girl's concentration so she, as the characters in her name foretold, stayed silent. After minutes had slowly trickled by as Kuga Natsuki stared out into the window, lost in her thoughts, and as she tried to discreetly watch Natsuki without trying to look like she was staring, the younger girl gave her a small smile and a quiet thanks and left, leaving her in her current state.

Her current state, she contemplated, what an odd one it was. Since meeting Natsuki, she began to barely recognize the changes in herself. And now there were times where she frightened herself in how willing she would do anything for that slightly reclusive girl. Before, she had been perfectly content to stay in the background (somehow, even with the large amount of followers she somehow attracted), have a peaceful, if not slightly lonely high school life before going onto one of the major universities in Japan without any trouble. However that had soon changed, obviously, seeing how when she looked down she saw the edges of her uniquely-colored uniform that automatically singled her out in the seas of orange ones as the Student Council President. Suddenly she had far more duties and obligations than she cared to have, though she oddly did not mind.

It wasn't that she wasn't capable of such a position. Oh no, it wasn't that. Even though such positions of power suited her, she never expected she would give herself unnecessary burdens. It went against what she once thought was her personal code. It…it was as if all her core beliefs could be changed—even if it went against everything she believed in—she would do anything for that middle school student. Natsuki didn't have to ask her for anything, at least, form the words. All it took was a disappointed look, a head turned to the side in regret that made her heart skip a beat and fill Shizuru with some uncomfortable feeling. It was then and there that she impulsively decided last term to run for Student Council President. Not just that, she deftly made sure that she would win, pouring her effort during those election times until she managed to bewitch all the other candidates (besides than that clueless blonde-haired brute) to throw their support with her and then drop out. And so, with a crushing, landslide victory that would forever be one of the brighter legends of the academy, she assumed the position just so Natsuki could access the data in the laptop that lay next to her. 

How absolutely ridiculous. Five years ago she would had reprimanded herself for having such an idiosyncrasy. Now she wasn't as sure. She wondered if looked into the mirror and saw her past self reflected back at her—would they look the same? No, even with the difference in age, they wouldn't. The gaze in her eyes had softened considerably, even with her mask on. She no longer dwelled in constant state of contentment—never fully sated but never quite in want—she suddenly had huge ups and downs that all revolved around Natsuki. When she was with that girl she barely could keep up with herself. Suddenly she was laughing—not just a polite, restrained laugh, but a genuine one—with her, gently teasing her, and carefully guiding, supporting Natsuki. She never thought it possible that she could feel such emotions. It overwhelmed her. 

She usually took everything on with a serene expression for it had proven to be the most effective. She had always been the perceptive sort and had quickly learned the best methods of manipulation. She always got her way and took pride in her efficiency in getting it. In truth, she had been a little bored of the power she effortlessly commanded. Everyone put her on a high-reaching pedestal and admired her from there, never truly trying to see the instability that was as much part of her as her guise of impeccable tranquility. That made her irreproachable, aloof and callous. 

Aloof and callous? Perhaps, she thought with a ghost of an amused smile, letting the expression filter through her rigid self-regulation. Perhaps. Perhaps she was a spoiled brat who always, _always_ got what she wanted. She didn't need to throw tantrums—no, she had learned by she was seven that there were far more efficient ways. Instead of unleashing such uncontrollable emotions that bubbled dangerously underneath her surface, she allowed them to shimmer quietly in the background before, with dangerous precision and efficiently, forceful down the highly concentrated concoction in her adversary's throat. 

Even though she took on everything with her perfected, calm mask on, in truth her personality was far from being of the calm sort. No, that wasn't true—it would be a lie to say that her mask was purely fabricated. But in the same way the best lies are made, her mask was a warped part of her, a piece of the truth. Yes, in the beginning, she had been the emotional sort. Energetic really, she took on every challenge that her parents gave to her with smile. It was her insatiable curiosity that made her want to explore every unknown as quickly as possible. From flower arrangement to calligraphy she took it in as if it was a simple as it was breathing. 

Whenever she hit a challenge, a bump in her smooth path, she attacked it with ferocity, refusing to allow it hinder her. She had then learned to channel, to control that energy through her practice of _chanoyu_ and_naginatado_ and apply it to her life. Yet she never could fully master any of them. She never could reach the calmness that was required, the one everyone else carelessly assumed she had. The thought made her tense; fingers slowly curl into a tight fist underneath the desk. Something had blocked the path: she just couldn't rid herself of that impulsivity, that pulse of uncontrollable emotion that she soon began to feel for Natsuki. It affected every aspect of her, leaking through everything, staining every inch of her. How could she describe it…how could she describe this burning feel she felt? 

Oh, what was it that she felt? This, this, this feeling, overwhelming feeling, threatening to spill out of her and yet was carefully leashed for she feared it pouring out of her with wild, brazen abandon. And so, it all reflected back at her, attacking her self-control with twice the strength, pounding at her brittle inner walls which were threatening to shatter. It was like she was at the very edge, the very brink of her sanity that made her question, question and ask herself, how could she hone such an emotion into a thin, fine blade that she could use or, at the very least, control? It seemed impossible, she could barely pinpoint the magnitude of what she was feeling, the strength that made her shiver, want to cry out, and eyes blur as she struggled to feel herself, to reign herself in and just, just find a way to hold herself. It was a battle she had no hope of winning. And she, someone who had never lost in her life, was terrified of those prospects. 

Everything was at the tip of her tongue at yet once she opened her mouth, she could not gather her thoughts enough for even a sound to be released from inside her. Oh, why, why wasn't this as simple as everything else was? For everything else, it seemed like they all bowed down towards her without resistance, caved in. She hated it. 

It came to her all in flickers, bursts of sensations. Of random words strung together that they seemed to make so much sense in her mind until she brought herself to _define_ them, to express them. Of bits and pieces, images, memories of herself and Natsuki, how the other girl somehow managed to pull herself away from her skin and bring out someone she did not know, a Shizuru she was not comfortable with knowing. 

She remembered one memory in particular that somehow managed to solidify despite the wispy ambiance that surrounded her. Of a warm, spring afternoon, a weekend, where she had…no good. She looked down, back down to her cup and the slowly cooling liquid it contained. Her self-control had betrayed her yet again. She saw once more, from the murky reflection inside the teacup that her smile was sad this time. She sighed and wondered when it was that she became so fragile and easily stirred. Looking up, she finally noticed how the setting sun had bathed the room in mixtures of orange. 

Maybe, these things, her situation and emotions, were how they were meant to be. That she should be careening, teeter-tottering, and floundering for a stability that continued to elude her like some fickle entity. It felt like she was trying to mold solid rubber: using all her strength to press, attempt to mold and contort the image to her only liking only for it, the moment she released it, to bounce back into place. Her smile turned self-derisive and finished the rest of her now cold tea. 

Who was she trying to convince? She knew what she was feeling, this emotion she had for Natsuki. She had long found out what it was. It was love and it was not the love that one harbored for a friend. It was a love that she continually repressed in fear that it would be discovered. A fearful, yet uncontrollable love. Yes, she knew the rumors that surrounded her and Natsuki. She did nothing to hinder them; in fact, she gently egged them forward in hopes that it might spur some reaction out of the younger girl, to see where she stood in that girl's eyes. How pathetic of her. Yet, it wasn't like she could outright ask so she had to resort to such ungainly means. 

Reflection, idle recollection. She was sick of just sitting here idly, exhausting all her mental capabilities for nothing. However, what else could she do? Despite all her resources, her so-called intelligence, and abilities, she could not find a solution for herself. As the days trickled by, she felt like the cord that tied her to Natsuki was getting tighter, around her neck—like a noose—and she just sat there, drinking her tea and let it slowly squeeze everything she was out of her until she was only an empty shell. Was this love? Or was it obsession? Where did the boundaries between the two blend together and where did she stand? Was it even natural to feel this way? The automatic, condition response in her mind was a clear, penetrating "No." Even so, she could not help it. Her eyes flickered downwards towards the empty teacup. A single finger reached out and gently pushed at the side, rolling the teacup around and around. 

Convoluting, yes, that was how it was. Like she was spinning around in circles, caught up in something she couldn't control. She could coolly observe herself now, but the moment the tempo sped up, when she brought herself to Nasuki's side, intoxicating herself within the other girl's scent, she lost all control. She forgot where she began and where she ended, where self-control stopped and was replaced with impulsivity. Who was she? Who was the ever-elusive Fujino Shizuru? The teacup slipped from her fingers and fell to its side. The sudden noise snapped herself out of her daze. She could not help chuckling and laughing at herself. How foolish. 

She stood up and walked to the window. She reached out and pressed her palm into the slightly cold glass and stared intently out as if she was trying to look into the ever-so indiscernible, intangible future. Realizing that was in vain, she slowly let her hand drop, a single finger slowly traced a path downwards until her hand returned to her side. Instead she slowly closed her eyes. Her insecurity melted away and was replaced with almost arrogant, prideful assurance. Her uncertainty disappeared along with her fears and reservations. She made herself traveled back in time, back further and further until she, when she opened her eyes, returned back to her final year of middle school. She became the Fujino Shizuru who had first met Kuga Natsuki for the first time.

_Let me see,_ she thought, _let me see if this was how I was meant to be._


End file.
